<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Closer by Kitty Fisher (kittyfisher)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29493108">Closer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyfisher/pseuds/Kitty%20Fisher'>Kitty Fisher (kittyfisher)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Smallville</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brainwashing, Lionel heading to the White House, M/M, Misery, Pain, Violence, imprisonment through drugs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:27:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,362</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29493108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyfisher/pseuds/Kitty%20Fisher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex is brain-dead and paraplegic, or maybe he isn't. Clark is almost Superman. Pete is trying to keep it together.</p>
<p>Triggers for imprisonment, drugs, brainwashing, abuse.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, Lana Lang/Pete Ross, Lex Luthor/Lionel Luthor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Closer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Closer</p>
<p>Kitty Fisher</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>--The Dreamer</em>
</p>
<p>The dream is the entirety of existence. Sliding from a moment of awareness, of I am… I am here, this is me… to dreaming of someone else’s existence, someone else who has the right to I. The right to me.</p>
<p>I am, so therefore I think.</p>
<p>But if he doesn’t, is there I?</p>
<p>Soughing with the drifts and oceans of oblivion, he considers dreams. Colors that shade towards the dark. Light that never really breaks away from shape. He/I laugh, running along distant shores, catching stars in a net and throwing them up into the sky. But the net falls, and the plane crashes. Metal and glass tearing into fragments…</p>
<p>Dark, pinpointed by dreams. Of waves. And thirst in an ocean of water.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Nurse.</em>
</p>
<p>He’s waiting for me outside the library, just as he said. I dodge a cyclist and run across the road, blushing as he sees me, his face lighting up with a huge smile, just for me.</p>
<p>“Pete…” I’m not breathless, not really. But I sound it.</p>
<p>“Alice, you look gorgeous.”</p>
<p>“I’m in my uniform!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, so – white suits you.”</p>
<p>“Flatterer.” I grin, and lean in for a quick kiss. Nothing too showy, there are about a hundred people in the plaza. His lips are soft, I feel myself shiver as he takes hold of my hand.</p>
<p>Letting my fingers slide between his, holding tight, I look him over. “And you look so sharp – that suit’s new?”</p>
<p>He glances down, then up, his eyes bright with mischief. “Yeah, what’d you expect, I got promoted.”</p>
<p>I kiss him then, properly. Let anyone stare. He deserves a kiss - and more. I have that for him too, and I’m so excited about my news that I can hardly keep still. I hold him tight for a moment, hugging. He’s not much taller than me, though there’s plenty of muscle under that smooth wool suit. The thought makes me breathless again.</p>
<p>I can’t help smiling – close to bursting with my own news. “And I’ve got a surprise too.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” he pulls me closer. “Finally got yourself a kinky version of that outfit?”</p>
<p>I slap his arm - he’s such a tease. I mean, we haven’t done anything more than kiss as yet. “No, but I did find out about our new patient.”</p>
<p>He stills then, and his dark eyes suddenly look so serious. “Go on.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t believe you when they said that Lionel Luthor’s son might be coming to us. But I guess they think Dr Ambrose will be able to help him, poor guy.”</p>
<p>“Alice…”</p>
<p>I pause. Pete’s voice sounds strange. “Pete, I know Mr Luthor wants to be certain his son’s getting the proper treatment, and you did ask me to keep an eye on things. I hope I’ve done the right thing…”</p>
<p>“Alice, just tell me, please, what’s happened.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you were right, Lex Luthor was admitted last night.”</p>
<p>“Fuck…”</p>
<p>He looks shocked. I guess his boss must be worried sick about his son, and Pete only wants the best for Mr Luthor. Who wouldn’t, the poor man, after all he’s been through. All the photos and TV shots showed him devastated after Lex’s illness. One minute he has a son who was his business partner, the next he has a child who will never walk or talk again. Tragedy is no respecter of wealth. I cried all through the press conference he gave announcing that his son was paraplegic. So did everyone I knew. Lucas had looked sad too. We all fell for him, the lost child, the new-found son. Lionel had held him tight as the flashbulbs from a thousand cameras popped, and we’d cried for the man’s loss. He’s so strong, just what our country needs.</p>
<p>“Pete, I changed schedules – so I’ll be working his floor.”</p>
<p>“Alice…” And he smiles at me, and I laugh again, because I love him, and I want him to look at me like this, like I’m worth the world to him.</p>
<p>I remember last night, being so excited that I’d be able to tell Pete this. I’d stolen a look into the new patient’s room, though I wasn’t really meant to be there yet. Lex Luthor, even being so thin and pale and tied up with tubes, he was unmistakeable. “He looked so sick, Pete, I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, four years in and out of a coma will do that to you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>**</p>
<p>--<em>The Friend</em></p>
<p>“Clark, this isn’t going to work.”</p>
<p>“Shut up, Pete, you’ve said that a hundred times so far.”</p>
<p>“Yeah – and I’m going to make it a hundred and one! This is the crappiest of all crappola plans!”</p>
<p>“Got a better one?”</p>
<p>He’s got that stubborn Kent look. I hesitate for a second, then kick the wall anyway. “No, dammit.”</p>
<p>Tight with frustration I turn and pace across the room to stare out at the grey city through grimy glass. Lionel Luthor’s city. The very thought makes my stomach burn with acid. Damn, I’m so gonna have an ulcer by the time I hit twenty-five. “Clark, try looking at reality here, Lionel’s been moving him around, consulting different doctors all the time. Lex might be as ill as his father says.”</p>
<p>Even as I say the words, I’m shaking my head. Yeah, I work for the man, but only because it’s the best way to find out his plans. Does he trust me? No way. But then the future president doesn’t trust anyone at all. Future president? Oh, yeah. LL is going all the way to the White House, with Pete Ross smiling every step of the route.</p>
<p>Damn, how did I ever let Clark persuade me into any of this shit. I don’t even like Lex. Didn’t. I can’t hate him now.</p>
<p>“He’s here, and I’m going to rescue him.” Clark sits forward, the bed creaking as he moves. “I know I can do it.”</p>
<p>I turn and frown. “You might get caught. What then?”</p>
<p>“Then Superman will get a public airing a little earlier than I intended.”</p>
<p>“Jeez. I wish you wouldn’t use that name.”</p>
<p>“It’s a joke, Pete. I’ll think of something else when the time comes.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I knew you should never have taken Philosophy 101.”</p>
<p>He looks at me, that Clark-look that teases and flirts and makes you feel good and guilty all at once. “Better than The Kryptonian?”</p>
<p>He’s got me there. “Yeah, okay, smartass. I was the wrong side of seven beers when I said that.”</p>
<p>“The night you kissed Lana for the first time…”</p>
<p>“Oh, man, that was something.” I sigh, and shake my head, the memories are all linked and woven, both happy and sad.</p>
<p>Clark glances at me, his eyes are dark with pain. “We were very young.”</p>
<p>“Babies.”</p>
<p>We look at each other for a long time. Sometimes if feels as if I’ve known him for longer than a lifetime. Big brother, friend, mystery, marvel. Who’da thought.</p>
<p>“When are you seeing the nurse again?”</p>
<p>That stabs guilt into me. “Tomorrow. She likes me, Clark.”</p>
<p>He shrugs, not really caring. The last few years have changed all of us, Clark mostly. “She was essential. And she’ll survive a little heartbreak.”</p>
<p>I hear the silent – we all do. And yeah, we all survive. “I still feel like a jerk.”</p>
<p>“Lex will thank you.”</p>
<p>Lex Luthor. Who’d have thought I’d be one of the scoobies trying to save his life? Maybe Clark isn’t the only one to have changed.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Dreamer</em>
</p>
<p>I know I dream.</p>
<p>A small difference, but so important.</p>
<p>They tell me I scream sometimes. How I can, when I can hardly make the smallest sound, I’m not sure. Maybe the screams are silent, but the machines can still tell.</p>
<p>I dream of water, and drowning. Of the moment the sea crashed too easily through hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of glass and metal. Of the drugs, before and after…</p>
<p>Do I scream then? Or is it only when the world is a rippling mass of pain, the ocean stealing my breath, fracturing my equanimity. Is it then, at the second I know I am dying? Or after, in the waking when I know I am still alive?</p>
<p>I dream, sometimes even when I am asleep. Though the line between the two states is so blurred, that maybe I dream all the time. Dream waking, awake dreaming. Slip-slide blur of reality. Dreams of I and me. Of walking in sunlight. Of Clark. Memories there too, hidden in the twists and recesses of nightmare.</p>
<p>I open my eyes. I. My. Oh, the sweet pleasure of knowing that I am.</p>
<p>Bright light and then shadows. No frown. I can’t. But I think it; the frown trapped inside me.</p>
<p>Hearing intact, I sing in my head. Joy, or something like it. Triumph maybe.</p>
<p>A hand touches my forehead, the fingers cool and gentle. See Lex run, see Lex feel. Whole inches of skin at a time responding. Giant leaps.</p>
<p>“Mr Luthor?” Sweet voice. Pretty nurse, smiling, her hair just escaping in curls from its confinement in clips and white hat. “I’ll be bathing you tonight.” Another smile.</p>
<p>“Alice?” A different voice, and I feel a surge of panic - but it’s a woman.</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“Don’t spend too long in here – he’s not the only patient needing you tonight.”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am.” The pretty smile fades into careful professionalism. “I’ll be certain not to waste any time.”</p>
<p>“Good girl.” The door clicks shut.</p>
<p>“She’s gone.” A conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll take my time, don’t worry.”</p>
<p>I tried to nod. And yes, I’ll be flying to the moon tomorrow. She frowns slightly, and wipes my chin. There is no feeling there.</p>
<p>“The doctors will be around in the morning – I checked on your chart, and you’re due for more tests.” She sighs and begins to fold back the sheets. “You’ve made great progress, another month and you might start to regain some more feeling, wouldn’t that be great?”</p>
<p>Another month. What is a month? Time has slipped into memory, like hope.</p>
<p>I stare past her, the dream, there, like a shadow. The fear again, the nauseous moment of realization that Helen had duped me. That I was dying, and that Lionel had won.</p>
<p>The lion, smiling, all teeth and crocodile tears.</p>
<p>Bending over me, happy that I was helpless as a baby. Lucas at his side. Lucas…</p>
<p>I goes away, disappears into he.</p>
<p>And he wonders why he has been saved. Being fifty fathoms down and rotting would be better than this. Or maybe that is the point.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Hero</em>
</p>
<p>I quite like being a journalist. Chloe always knew the truth – with the right I.D you can get away with murder. Am I as ruthless as she was? Maybe. In this, yes. But this is Lex. And once I found out he wasn’t paralyzed, that there was a possibility that Lionel had set the whole thing up, I couldn’t let it rest.</p>
<p>Dad hates me. Mom understands, but she’ll back Dad to the hilt anytime. Neither of them really cared, not after the baby.</p>
<p>And the saddest thing? Though there have been so many tragedies: the baby; mom afterwards, grieving; Chloe turning out to be a bitch for Lionel; Lana, well Lana getting me for a boyfriend – though that ended in time for Pete to pick up the pieces. The saddest thing? Sadder than the misery my arrival brought to one small town?</p>
<p>I didn’t know I loved him until it was too late.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Father</em>
</p>
<p>“Mr Luthor?”</p>
<p>“Dominic?” I don’t slow down, just let him run to catch me up as we walk along the hospital corridor. He’s panting slightly. Such a lap-dog. A puppy who likes to be beaten. I feel my canines lengthen every time we speak.</p>
<p>“Lex is regaining feeling.” He is waving some papers. “The nurse just gave me these test results.”</p>
<p>And that is interesting. “Show me.”</p>
<p>He holds the papers out. Damn, just like a puppy. “Well done, Dominic.” Sit down, wag your tail. I’ll fuck it later. Maybe.</p>
<p>Lex. Getting better. Shoving the papers back at Dominic, I walk in to see my son.</p>
<p>He doesn’t look any better. Tubes and machines, gauges and monitors, the stink of antiseptic and floor polish. Needles under his pale skin, the blue veins like tracery at his elbows and wrists. Leaning over his face so he can see me, I smile.</p>
<p>“Sorry I haven’t been to see you for a while, son. But the snow in Gstaad was perfect, I skied every day for a week. Lex, you’d have loved it.”</p>
<p>“He has feeling in his face.” Dominic, there, staring down. He hates Lex so much, even now. It amuses me to watch him here. “The treatment must be wearing off -”</p>
<p>“Dominic!”</p>
<p>He shuts up. Damn him. He knows he’ll be punished later for that slip. I glare and his face scorches red. I should fuck him here, over Lex’s bed. He’d come in seconds.</p>
<p>Maybe I would too.</p>
<p>Shaking my head, I turn back to Lex.</p>
<p>“So, you’re getting some feeling back? Isn’t that nice for you, son.” I reach out and stroke a finger along one almost non-existent eyebrow. The smooth skin is drawn so tightly over bone that it looks translucent. Such a frail child. So weak. “Can you feel this? Here?” Again. I know I’m smiling. “Your mother used to stroke you to sleep, do you remember? I can do it now, Lex. You’re all mine now.”</p>
<p>Lex hates me. And now , for a short while, he can feel my touch. I laugh out loud, synapses snapping with power. I did this. And he thought he could take me. Foolish, deluded boy.</p>
<p>“Dominic, arrange an appointment with Dr Alexandrovich. I think it’s about time he paid Lex another visit. After all, we want to take advantage of this development, don’t we. Only the best for Lionel Luthor’s son.”</p>
<p>Ah, yes Lex. I look into your eyes and that, there, is fear.</p>
<p>Dominic moves closer. I can hear the pride in his voice. “The future president’s son.”</p>
<p>Oh yes, fear me, Lex. I am your father – and I am god.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Hero</em>
</p>
<p>Pete is late. I pace my room, wearing a line in the already threadbare carpet. Late. The possibilities are ridiculously endless. No. They are worse than endless – for the real possibility is that Pete has been caught.</p>
<p>Standing still I take a deep breath. Okay, enough. No dramatics. There is still time. Slowly, my fingers clumsy, I pull at the knot of my tie. I hate suits but Clark Kent likes them.</p>
<p>Which sounds so stupid. Am I two people? Maybe. There are things not even Pete knows. Things I’ve hidden. Lies and half-truths are now second nature to me, after all, I’ve had a lifetime to perfect the skills. Stealing came so easily too. How else was I going to fund Lex’s escape plan?</p>
<p>Threadbare carpet, tiny apartment, hundred dollar suit. And a million bucks in a safe place. My place. You wouldn’t think there was anywhere left on earth where you could be secret and alone. But if you have the cash, the inclination and oh, the super powers, then sure, anything’s possible.</p>
<p>I’m going to take Lex away. He is mine. Failure isn’t an option I can even consider.</p>
<p>One wrong step, one part of the plan going awry, and Lionel will kill Lex, I know it. Fuck the fantastic publicity of having a very ill son. Maybe having a dead one would be enough to rocket him straight into the White House.</p>
<p>Lex would have made a good president. Lionel is going to use that power to rule the world.</p>
<p>So much to think about. So many wrongs to right.</p>
<p>Lex first though.</p>
<p>Lex.</p>
<p>I realise I’m shivering, and start walking again. Where is Pete?</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Dreamer</em>
</p>
<p>I dream. Me. I. The words sound like worlds in my head. Whole worlds of existence, whole starfields of knowing. For I am.</p>
<p>Or was. Or will be. Hope is myriad brightness; it is dancing with the stars.</p>
<p>Snapshot. Slow motion flicker-book of images. And I remember the crash. There, real. I remember. Joy unbounded, like laughter after grief.</p>
<p>Drowning, then not. Living, owing it all – both this life and that non-death – to my father. Mystery upon mystery, the heart of a rose. And then, the needle bright… I fear it. I know it takes this joy and leaves me as something other. Something without a center, a heart. No, please… But speech is still only part of the dream, and in silence I know I am weeping.</p>
<p>And he is there again, bearded and smiling. And I am not me. I am other. Nothing.</p>
<p>O.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Woman</em>
</p>
<p>I’ve been in love three times, with three different men. One of them thought I was a child, one thought I was a goddess, and one sees me as I am. Oh, and he makes me laugh.</p>
<p>Pete is a good man. He grins and jokes and tells me I’m beautiful, but he never treats me like I’m a china doll, too precious to be played with. And he doesn’t have secrets. Not ones that matter. Any secrets he has are to do with Clark – and anything to do with Clark is really about Lex.</p>
<p>Three men. Strange how the patterns shift and turn. I used to think I was at the center of it all, but now I know differently.</p>
<p>Lex Luthor. Oh, he was so sexy. I’d have slept with him, had he wanted me. Anyone would have. Rich, powerful, cute in a sad and slightly scary way. I never thought about him and Clark until after. Then it all made such sense.</p>
<p>My dress is nearly ready. Ivory satin with a long train, peach roses and lilies in my bouquet, lace and more roses in my crown and veil. It took me a long time to find the right shoes, but I tracked them down. Pete will like them, the heels are low. Clark will be perfect as best man. I’ll enjoy kissing him while we dance. It seems the best place to say a proper goodbye. Not that we won’t see him, but I’ll be Mrs Ross and Clark will be just my friend. My ex.</p>
<p>I wonder if he’ll like the dress?</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Lap-dog</em>
</p>
<p>There was a moment today when I thought Lionel might fuck me. He looked at me - that look - when we were standing over Lex’s bed. Christ, I was hard in a second. I’d have taken it, had he wanted me to. Or got on my knees and blown him while he talked to his son.</p>
<p>Anything.</p>
<p>He waited until we were back in the car. Though he punished me first. I know my tongue can slip away sometimes, but I don’t think I gave away too much – I mean, Lex is a vegetable, how can it matter what he hears? A little feeling in his skin and Lionel is all a-twitter. Lex is nothing now. Lionel may as well have him stuffed and mounted in the hallway. A keepsake. It would be less expensive that all the bloody hospitals and specialists. Very special specialists too. I like watching the drugs being administered. Knowing that they are stealing Lex little by little. I wonder if he has any brain left at all? Not enough to have heard me. Surely?</p>
<p>Not enough to earn the beating Lionel gave me.</p>
<p>Though that made me hard too. Lionel Luthor, as usual, in a win/win situation.</p>
<p>I wonder if he’ll fuck me over the Oval Office desk?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Nurse</em>
</p>
<p>He did like me. I know he did. Could anyone smile and laugh like that and not mean it?</p>
<p>I don’t know where all the tears are coming from. I don’t even think I’m crying and yet I look down through blurry vision and the table is splashed with them.</p>
<p>“Honey, you gotta stop this.”</p>
<p>Mom. Oh, Mom. I let her hug me and I sob into her shoulder. “Mom, he loved me. He loved me…”</p>
<p>“Shush, shush… it’ll be all right, child, it’ll be all right.”</p>
<p>“Mom…”</p>
<p>Her hands are strong, firm as she strokes me. I know I’m safe here, but I still can’t stop crying. He was so nice. And he liked me. I know he did.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Father</em>
</p>
<p>I can hardly see the roaring crowd for balloons and streamers, placards and signs – all with my name and those wonderful words, For President, emblazoned on them. President Luthor. Oh, I can scent success, all that power so close to being mine. I wave, laughing at the sheep that voted for me. They are such fools, these nonentities. But so essential to my plan. All of them.</p>
<p>A thousand people patting me on the back, a million hands to shake, pretty girls – and boys – ready to be willing and eager for the sake of their nation. Life is good. Life is damn good.</p>
<p>Standing like the still center of a whirlwind of noise and clamor, the rush almost levitating me off the floor, I wave, and know I am on the way, the yellow brick road is all mine. I want to roar, to punch the air – instead I smile and laugh, and let them love me.</p>
<p>Lucas is here too. As I glance at him I see Dominic. I see them talking. Lucas suddenly white-faced, grim, his fists tight as he shakes Dominic by the lapels. Dominic looks sick as he stumbles from him, towards me.</p>
<p>Does the crowd go silent? I don’t think so. But my world does. Silent, leached of color. Because I know what Dominic is going to tell me. There’s no need for him to say the words. As Dominic walks towards me I consider killing him. He walks so slowly, his face a mask. I turn, slow as time, and look him in the eye. Someone sets off a million streamers and the crowd screams.</p>
<p>“Mr Luthor…”</p>
<p>I shake my head. Not here. But I know. Lex has gone.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Friend</em>
</p>
<p>“Man, where are you!”</p>
<p>“Pete, can you hear me?”</p>
<p>Scratchy, echoing phone line, like it’s bouncing off a hundred satellites on its way from Mars.</p>
<p>Not that I think he’s hidden Lex there. Not even Clark could do that. Could he?</p>
<p>“I just… wish…congratula- ”</p>
<p>“Thanks, man!” Yeah, I grasp the idea if not the words. I know I’m grinning like a loon, bouncing on my heels, but who cares. I’m married and Clark is calling me long distance. From Mars. I laugh again, and shout into the phone, “Thanks!”</p>
<p>More static and I hold the phone away from my ear.</p>
<p>“Who is it, darling?”</p>
<p>I turn, and there is my wife, so beautiful she takes my breath away. Every time. “Lana, it’s Clark.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” She comes close, her wide eyes bright with interest. “Where is he?”</p>
<p>“Either on Mars or in a tin bucket.” Lips pursed, she blinks slowly, frowning until I give in, grinning. “Honey, the line is terrible, he didn’t have time to tell me.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” She tilts her head just so, the line of her neck perfect. “Is he all right?”</p>
<p>“I can’t tell, the line’s so crap.” And the static breaks into silence. “Clark?” Nothing. “Clark!”</p>
<p>He’s gone.</p>
<p>“He won’t even make it to the party, will he?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>I can hear the sounds of the music and laughter, all our friends – most of our friends. Suddenly I just want Lana. Sliding an arm around her waist I pull her close. Damn, she smells of jasmine and the roses that were twined in her hair. I breath her in, intoxicated. “Lana, let’s leave now. Get away while no one’s looking.”</p>
<p>She kisses me, softly on the lips, and I know she is smiling. “Great idea.”</p>
<p>So we leave. Giggling like kids, happy to skip from our own day. But we’re happy. And Clark is OK. So we run from the hotel, and the night is bright with stars.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Hero</em>
</p>
<p>He looks so peaceful, sleeping. And it is sleep. My tame doctor has done everything a million dollars can buy. Lex is free of drugs, free of everything but the lightest sedative.</p>
<p>I carry him, wrapped in blankets, in my arms and fly fast and straight, the night soft around us. He’s light, his bones fragile, like a bird in my hands. Yet I can feel the life beating in him, and I know he will be all right. I know it. I will it. And I’ve become very used to getting what I want.</p>
<p>Dipping down, I skim the sea, just to watch the Aurora dancing. Saying hello. I’m grinning as I gain height again, and Lex is warm in my arms. Tonight I could wrap the whole world in my love.</p>
<p>The fortress is ready. A year it took, working at top speed. But it is unfindable, impenetrable, furnished with everything we could possibly need. Everything Lex will need to get better. I hope I’ve thought of everything. I’ve made enough lists over the past few years.</p>
<p>High now, the arc of the Earth beautiful around us. I’ll bring Lex here again, when he’s well.</p>
<p>He’ll love this.</p>
<p>I hope he can love me, as well.</p>
<p>And there it is. If some stray explorer found it, then all they would see would be ice. But in the heart of the ice is my home. My fortress of solitude. Now shared with one man.</p>
<p>My feet crunch on ice and snow. Lex’s breath clouds in the air. But in a second we’re inside. In warmth. I set all the alarms, the codes, the barriers, and walk through into Lex’s room. The bed is huge, and he looks far too slight, lain on the pale gold comforter. His skin is clear, warm as I touch it. He’ll come round soon. I can’t leave his side until he does. Waking alone would be terrible. I’ve done that. Even though I was a child, I can remember the terror.</p>
<p>I don’t want Lex to be afraid.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Dreamer</em>
</p>
<p>With a gasp I awake and open my eyes.</p>
<p>I try to look sideways, and my head actually moves. I look, and Clark is watching me. Sitting by my bed, dressed in jeans and a dark red sweater, looking older, but still as perfect. Clark Kent. Hope is like a knife, quartering my heart.</p>
<p>I lick my dry lips, and lift my hand.</p>
<p>And then I know I’m dreaming, because my hand lifts. I can see it. I turn it slowly, swivelling the wrist, watching the muscles working. My fingers look bony. And far too pale.</p>
<p>At least this dream is consistent. My heart beats again. I can cope. This is good. No water, no plane.</p>
<p>“Lex?”</p>
<p>It walks, it talks. God, I love him so much. Even the dream-Clark. I smile at him, the movement of my facial muscles feels awkward. I haven’t smiled in a long time, not even in my mind. “Clark…I like this dream.”</p>
<p>“You’re not dreaming.” He moves and sits next to me on the bed. The wide mattress hardly dips. “Welcome home.”</p>
<p>His hair is shorter, but nothing much else is different. I frown. “Why am I dreaming of you with short hair?”</p>
<p>He shakes his head, and his face creases into pain. “Lex, this is real. I got you away from your father. You’re safe.”</p>
<p>He is too dazzling, I can’t think. So I look away.</p>
<p>Safe. Closing my eyes I try to wake up. Sometimes it works, tricking the subconscious into behaving. Not now. When I look again, nothing has changed.</p>
<p>If this could be true… I ache suddenly, the pain fierce and harsh, because more than anything in my life I want this reality. “I am in a clinic and my father is probably outside the door right now.”</p>
<p>“No. I got you out a few weeks ago. You’ve been with a doctor friend of mine. He cleaned your blood of the drugs those bastards kept you controlled with. You’re going to be fine. You’re safe. This is a place no one can find. You’ll heal, get better here. With me.”</p>
<p>He touches me then, and I gasp.</p>
<p>Dream-Clark can’t touch me. I hold still as this one strokes my cheek. He is crying, silently. Reaching up I touch one tear as it traces its way along his jaw. It’s wet, warm. I rub it between my fingers. Holding my arm up hurts, so I let it fall.</p>
<p>Maybe…</p>
<p>“Clark?”</p>
<p>“It’s the truth. Lex, please believe me.”</p>
<p>Hardly daring to breathe, I touch him. Warm, strong, his hand jerks a little, then curls around mine.</p>
<p>“You’ll be weak for a while, though the doctor’s been working on your muscles so they won’t be too wasted. I’ve installed a gym here. And a pool. You’ll get fit in no time.”</p>
<p>I want to pinch myself. If this isn’t a dream, then so much makes no sense at all…</p>
<p>“Clark?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“I drowned. I was paralyzed.” All those terrible memories. “I couldn’t move.”</p>
<p>“Lionel drugged you. There was no plane crash, not a real one. He just set a mock one up so you’d believe your own illness and not fight it.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” No crash. The chasm of memory opens and I am shaking. I couldn’t… all that time…</p>
<p>“Lex!”</p>
<p>I feel his arms close around me, and then he is lying next to me, holding me, whispering words that make no sense other than of comfort. After a while the spasms still, and exhausted I lie back. He kisses me then, softly, just by my lips.</p>
<p>“How long?” I ask, my mouth brushing his.</p>
<p>“Four years.”</p>
<p>I can’t make sense of it. But I almost believe I’m not dreaming. Turning, I curl into his warmth, and let my arm fall around his waist.</p>
<p>Sleep, or something like it, is there. I fall into it. Dreamlessly.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Reporter</em>
</p>
<p>It should have been the scoop of the decade – the century – but in the end I let someone else write it. Lionel Luthor pulled out of the race for the White House on the eighteenth of March 2008. Let someone else run the story, I’m too busy drinking gin.</p>
<p>You know what they say about backing the wrong horse? Well, I am that person. I thought Lionel had it all – he was certainly good in bed, and he had the contacts, the money, the strength I needed to forget.</p>
<p>I was a crazy girl. Crazy for love. Crazy in love. I’d have clawed Lana’s eyes out if I’d thought Clark would still love me. He wouldn’t, of course. Lionel would have understood that sort of behavior. Oh, yeah, we got on very well, thank you very much.</p>
<p>He paid me off well too. I’ve enough money in the bank to live on until I get myself straightened out. A spell in the Ford Clinic would help, but I like the gin too much. And I’m not quite an alcoholic. Yet. Ah, but it’s been a shitty year. And Clark Kent would be the one to ruin everything. The bastard must hate me. He’s worked so hard at ruining my life.</p>
<p>I wonder why he couldn’t love me? What’s wrong with me? I’m not ugly? Well, maybe I am now, but that’s because they fucking lied about the mascara being waterproof. Not that I’m crying. I’m not upset at all.</p>
<p>Hell, I’ll just pour another gin, get on with that. Something I’m good at. See? There is always something.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em>--The Mother</em>
</p>
<p>I lost two children on the same day. The miscarriage was terrible, and poor Jonathan wept like I’ve never seen a grown man cry. Sometimes we visit the grave, though Jonathan always makes an excuse and wanders off. He isn’t easy with emotion. I sit in the grass and talk. But I’m really talking to my other child. The tall, strong one. The one who thinks we still hate him.</p>
<p>I don’t. Do I?</p>
<p>Something changed that day, when Clark went off to Metropolis. Changed for everyone I know. I found Lana sobbing her eyes out on our porch. Yes, there have been a lot of tears shed. Not many of them of happiness.</p>
<p>Clark came home, in time. He went back to school, he dated Lana, split with her. In the end he couldn’t talk to his father anymore. And I had to take sides. I didn’t want to, but my husband was breaking apart, and I love him so much. I want what we’d had, and as that’s impossible I want the closest I can get. And Jonathan needs me. Clark doesn’t, not really, not anymore.</p>
<p>And now he has Lex. Somewhere – he’s never told us where he’s gone to earth. Pete thinks Clark has a house on Mars, but I think Pete is joking. Clark loves Earth. We adopted him, we gave him a home. Not just Jonathan and I, but humanity. He is grateful. Well, he’s never tried to become the great galactic dictator, or whatever his birth father had in mind for him.</p>
<p>I think one day he’ll come home. I hope he will. Standing here, looking out from his special place in the barn, seeing the world as he used to see it, I know he’ll come back to us. I want to hold him, to hug him and tell him I never meant to hurt him. We all make mistakes. All of us.</p>
<p>And now look at me! I’m crying too.</p>
<p>It’s all gone now. The spaceship, the children. Maybe I was never meant to be a mom. Maybe taking that child from the field was tempting fate. But I’ll never regret that we did. That I had him for a while. Clark, my son. I hope he is happy. I like to think he is.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <em> --Lex</em>
</p>
<p>You know, I still dream about the plane crash. Lionel did a good job on my head, I only know it didn’t happen because Clark has proven it to me. Or the AI proved it. Useful, having something that can link to all the computers in the world.</p>
<p>And can also provide light, heat, music and double chocolate ice-cream on demand.</p>
<p>It has taken me a long while to understand everything, and there are still gaps in my knowledge, as well as in my memory. But Clark is the epitome of patience. He talks to me, tells me his secrets. His fears. Somewhere along the line he lost the ability to totally trust himself. He trusts me though. We trust each other. Sometimes I think that this existence here is the dream, because I am happy. And I am not sure that I ever really understood what the feeling was like. Not before all this happened. I grasped at it, wanting it like a greedy child, but I never really knew what I was reaching for.</p>
<p>I know now.</p>
<p>Happiness is here, lying next to me, quite beautiful. The sheet has dropped past his hips, exposing his body as a lazy sprawl of sleek skin and perfect muscle. His hair is growing again. Reaching out I touch it lightly, my fingers just brushing the soft curls. He stirs a little, muttering into the pillow. He hates mornings, and never stirs when the lights begin to brighten.</p>
<p>I don’t sleep much.</p>
<p>I don’t need to. Maybe I’ve slept enough to last a lifetime.</p>
<p>Instead I think, and read, and catch up on everything I missed. I watch my father’s slow spiral out of power too. I enjoy that. As I enjoy telling the world exactly what he’d been up to – both before and after my ‘illness’.</p>
<p>Clark thinks there should be a Luthor in the White House. I tell him to shut up. But maybe, one day, though my aspirations are a little more global. Or maybe I’ll just be the consort of Superman. The thought makes me smile. What an awful name. Superman, Übermensch. No wonder he’s constantly fending off propositions from the far right.</p>
<p>The uniform is interesting though. In a Disney-on-acid way.</p>
<p>Well, at least it’s fun to take off. He looks best naked.</p>
<p>Grinning, I look down, and he’s watching me, one eye peering through his bangs, sleepy as a dormouse. With a wuffling sigh he turns, and kicks the sheet away. My stomach clenches at the sight of him. Maybe he does like mornings after all.</p>
<p>“Mmmm.” He stretches, muscles rippling, his cock bouncing as he settles back. He grins then, cocky. Deservedly so.</p>
<p>“Morning.”</p>
<p>“Lex…” he growls something and pulls me down, hugging me, his breath warm and sweet as he kisses my neck. “You look very awake.”</p>
<p>I press my hips towards him. He laughs then, the sound soft, making me shiver as he cups my ass and pulls me closer. “I’m awake.” I smile into his eyes, and kiss him. His lips open for me, and he sighs as I lick them slowly, sliding my tongue back and forth, easing inside.</p>
<p>He shifts again, sliding onto his back, pulling me over him. I lie there, rocking my hips very gently, his hands big and warm on my buttocks, holding me as I kiss his neck. He starts moaning as I lick the brand. Fathers can be so cruel. I kiss it, again, my lips pressing to the roughened skin until he pulls me up and holds me still, kissing me hard, eager as his hips start to pump against mine. I’m close too. We’re like kids, quick and horny. It’ll be slower later. We have plenty of time.</p>
<p>Clark jerks under me, his eyes going wide, startled by pleasure. As he groans I feel myself respond. He kisses me again, and we gasp into each other’s mouths, heat spilling between our bellies.</p>
<p>Spent, I fall. He whispers something, and strokes my head. When he wraps me tight in his arms, I smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>--The end</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For Lorelei, who wanted something without sharks or desert islands.</p>
<p>With thanks to Jacynrebekah and PepperyLyme for US terminology/beta, and to Lorelei for beta.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>